


A Million and One Candles

by watsonswarrior



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-10
Updated: 2012-02-10
Packaged: 2017-10-30 22:24:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/336819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/watsonswarrior/pseuds/watsonswarrior
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the day of their anniversary, John assumes Sherlock forgets. Sherlock proves him wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Million and One Candles

It was their one year anniversary. Well, their one year anniversary as a romantically involved couple, that is. John didn’t expect anything grand or special from Sherlock. He doubted the man would even remember. John wasn’t bitter about this, since he knew the brilliant man always had his head wrapped up in the latest case, the latest experiment. For all John knew, it was going to be another normal day for them, chasing criminals down darkened alleys, getting almost gunned down by a crazed phsycopath. 

John was right. There had been a case, but Sherlock insisted he took it alone because it was not stimulating in the slightest and even a nine year old could figure it out. This made him a quite angry. He may have forgotten that it was a special day, but this was drawing the line. John figured that they could at least spend time together, maybe steal a moment or two for a quick snog. Flustered, he stalked out of the flat, grabbing his black coat, and slamming the door behind him.

John was knackered by the time he got back to the flat. Sherlock had been right, the case was fairly simple, yet tiring as hell. Time seemed to slog on since Sherlock was not by his side. The whole time there was a hollow ache in his chest, missing his presence. He knew he should be livid with Sherlock, but all he wanted to do was go inside, put his jacket on the coat hook and pull him close, kissing every inch of his magnificent slim body.

He walked through the door, anticipating seeing Sherlock on the sofa, his black curls illuminated, smooth skin glowing in the soft light. He made his way over to the living room, skin buzzing with excitement. He didn’t even notice the smile he had on his face until he felt it fall. He wasn’t there, the sofa was empty. He scoped out the entire flat, not finding a trace of him. Just when he started to worry, John felt a buzzing in his pocket. He let out a deep sigh of relief when he saw the text was from Sherlock, telling him to meet him at Angelo’s when convenient, he had hypotheses of the next criminal to discuss with him. He felt even more tired than before, and not just physically. The small voice deep in his head told him that Sherlock was not has committed to this relationship as he was. That he didn’t have the capacity to do so. John quickly stomped that thought out, since heknew it wasn’t true. So, he turned around, grabbed his coat, and headed back out the door.

In less than five minutes, John arrived outside the quaint Italian restaurant. He took a deep breath, opening the door, hearing the jingling of bells to signal his entrance. John was not prepared of what he saw. There were hundreds of all types of candles, tea candles and candle sticks, among many others. The restaurant was thrown into an orange glow, the flames flickering ever so slightly. He then noticed that the place was completely empty, albeit the tall man waiting, standing, near, what he figured, was their table. Angelo appeared from the shadows, taking his coat, but he couldn’t be absolutely sure, since he was in a daze. He stumbled to where his well dressed man stood, a smug smile on his angelic face.

“But…I thought…” John stammered.

“That I forgot? How could I simply forget about our anniversary? Ye of little faith, my love.” He sauntered over to where John stood, mouth agape. “Come, join me,” Sherlock said in a low, thunderous voice. The surprised man took Sherlock’s slender hand and let him guide him to his seat. 

“So was that case a…red herring?” John asked. Sherlock chuckled as he watched John sit himself in his chair. 

“Quite right, John. Lestrade was in on it as well. He helped set this whole thing up,” he said, gesturing to the lit candles. Angelo came over, offering them wine with a warm smile. They both obliged and each sat there, drinking not only their Merlot, but each other’s presence. 

“Never pegged you as a romantic,” John teased, nudging him lightly with his foot. 

“Well, on certain occasions, I very well could be,” Sherlock said with a half smile.

The dinner went on marvelously, Sherlock even indulged John in eating for once while out at a restaurant. They talked and laughed and even played footsie under the table. John was bubbling with pure elation. Life couldn’t really get better than this, spending it with the man you love. Angelo brought out a large tiramisu in which they had every intention on sharing. They dug in, both smiling and slightly tipsy from all the wine they drank. 

“You know,” Sherlock remarked, “this is where I first, genuinely, fell in love with you. We were sitting right in this very spot, if you haven’t noticed, and you were wearing that retched oatmeal colored jumper. I could see through all those silly objections with not being gay. I could see the way you looked at me and I knew that my feelings were not unrequited. I do, however, regret that rubbish comment about being ‘married to my work,’ but gladly you saw past that, and now look where we are,” Sherlock said, taking hold of John’s hand, leaning in close, “You are the most important thing in my life and I don’t know, nor do I want to know, how my life would have turned out if I hadn’t met you. I…I just bloody love you so much.” Sherlock said, voice cracking slightly at the end. John squeezed his hand and shot him the kindest, most sincere smile he could.

“Sherlock, I don’t know what to say after that. That’s another reason why I love you. After all this time, you’re still so full of surprises.” They sat with their fingers entwined, staring at each other for a long time, until Sherlock breaks the silence. 

“Remember when you were so adamant on telling Angelo about not being my date, and he still got the candle? Well, you can only imagine where I drew my inspiration for this evening.” Sherlock’s eyes sparkled in the soft light. John giggled, recalling that very moment, thinking of the irony.

“Of course I do, you sodding idiot. By the way, all these candles? Very nice touch.”

“You think?”

“Absolutely,” John replied. Sherlock took the hand that he still held and kissed it with the lightest of kisses. They asked Angelo for the check, but he said it was on the house.

“Very special time for the two lovebirds,” Angelo said with a wink. The pair thanked him, grabbed their coats, and headed back to their flat, hands still clasped together.


End file.
